Pure hell

[Poke 'Em]

I devised a plan to hunt an area I was fairly confident hadn't seen a human in years. The pilot said he had never been able to find a spot to land there so we'd have to climb 2700' from the nearest gravel bar to get to the spot I wanted to be. Somehow I talked my buddy into it.

We were supposed to fly into town on Friday, spend the night, and fly into the bush on Saturday. With rough weather in the forecast though, I texted the pilot to say we were scheduled to land early enough in the day that if it aligned with his schedule we could fly out Friday afternoon to try to beat the weather. When we landed in Alaska, I had a text that said we were going straight to the hanger to fly out.

After waking up at 2 AM Alaska time, we landed on the gravel bar about 4 PM, and commence to the 4 1/2 hour hike to our hunting area. About 1/3 of the way up, through willows and alders and spongy ground that you sank 6" into with every step, I told my buddy "I regret this." But I also didn't stop.

We finally got to camp just before dark, and for several minutes it appeared the water I was sure I'd seen on satellite photos was nowhere to be found. Thankfully we finally found a few small seeps that held enough water to fill a bladder.

Just as we were about to turn in for the night, five caribou came strolling through the saddle we camped in. A mix of small bulls and cows, but it was a good start.

The next morning the weather was iffy, but there was still decent visibility so we headed off to glass in the rain.

 

[perma]

Following

 

[Hilljackoutlaw]

Sounds like my kinda fun! Following.

 

[Poke 'Em]

My hunting partner was feeling a little discouraged. I had promised him this area was worth hiking into because we would be able to glass a huge area and I was confident we would see lots of activity. Well, as of noon we had seen one cow and one far off grizzly. I assured him that caribou move around a lot, and are experts at hiding without cover. It's not uncommon to be watching a wide-open tundra and all of a sudden there's a caribou there.

Early afternoon, the skies parted and we began seeing wildlife. First two grizzlies sunning themselves.



Then a group of six cows a couple of miles off. Then as we were packing up to move to a different vantage, my buddy says "don't move." A small bull had appeared out of nowhere at 40 yards.



We watched as he trotted around us, then through my binos I saw what looked like a promising bull a couple miles off. But as I was looking at him, I looked back behind me and instantly said "there's a bull. He's a shooter."

He wasn't a giant, but I'd sent my buddy lots of photos of bulls leading up to his first Alaska hunt, and he was bigger than a lot of bulls he had said he would shoot on Day One. He was 730 yards off and moving quickly toward a creek bottom.

We moved quickly to cut him off and close the distance. We crept up on a bench that overlooked creek bottom, and he appeared out of the willows at less than 200 yards. But before my friend could get a bead on him, he disappeared into the willows and went out of sight.



We sat there for a solid 15 minutes hoping he'd reappear, but nervous he had somehow slipped out through the willows. Finally, I suggested that I could circle around to possibly bump him out of the bushes, or at least get a different angle and be able to find him. As I eased up toward the edge of the bench, he popped out of the willows and headed toward my friend.

It was only the afternoon of Day One, but the first tag was filled.

 

[Poke 'Em]

We quartered out his caribou quickly, keeping a watchful eye out just in case a bear felt attracted to the scene. After an hour or so, we loaded up heavy packs and began the mile and a quarter trek back to camp.





Now at this point, we had multiple trips down to the river potentially staring us in the face. We figured realistically we could do one round trip per day. I was hopeful I could find a spot to land up top, at least with an empty plane, but I was preparing for a reality in which that wasn't feasible.

About a quarter mile from camp my buddy said "there's a bull" and pointed across a drainage. He kept walking, as he had shed some of his meat and the antlers partway through the packout and knew he had a second trip to make. I told him I wanted to look at the bull through the scope and that I'd meet him at camp.





He was a giant, but with one bull to pack out and uncertainty about just how difficult that would be, and a sense that I didn't want the hunt to be over on Day One, I decided to leave my gun on my pack.

 

[Dsnow9]

We quartered out his caribou quickly, keeping a watchful eye out just in case a bear felt attracted to the scene. After an hour or so, we loaded up heavy packs and began the mile and a quarter trek back to camp.

View attachment 291333

View attachment 291331

Now at this point, we had multiple trips down to the river potentially staring us in the face. We figured realistically we could do one round trip per day. I was hopeful I could find a spot to land up top, at least with an empty plane, but I was preparing for a reality in which that wasn't feasible.

About a quarter mile from camp my buddy said "there's a bull" and pointed across a drainage. He kept walking, as he had shed some of his meat and the antlers partway through the packout and knew he had a second trip to make. I told him I wanted to look at the bull through the scope and that I'd meet him at camp.

View attachment 291334

View attachment 291335

He was a giant, but with one bull to pack out and uncertainty about just how difficult that would be, and a sense that I didn't want the hunt to be over on Day One, I decided to leave my gun on my pack.

Oh man, this is exciting. Those pictures are amazing of the bull you passed up. There is no way I would have had that much will power.

 

[Hunting Wife]

Oh man, that’s a gorgeous bull. Would have been very hard to pass.

Great photos and story so far!

 

[elkrchr]

Great write up thus far!

 

[duckhunt]

Now this is an awsome hunt.

 

[SCliving Outdoors]

Oh man, this is exciting. Those pictures are amazing of the bull you passed up. There is no way I would have had that much will power.

Youre right about that. I would have hammered him.

This is great! Excited to hear the rest!

 

[Hem]

Yeah, enjoying this one immensely.
Memories for a lifetime.

 

[CRJR45]

In for the ride! Thank you .

 

[Poke 'Em]

The next day I had one goal in mind. Find a spot for the pilot to land that didn't involve a six-hour round trip to haul meat through the torture chamber. I told myself I'd spend one whole day searching for a spot he could land, and if I couldn't find it, we would begin round-tripping meat to the river. With rain and no visibility that morning, we were stuck in the tent until close to noon. Finally the clouds lifted and on my way out to the flat, I encountered these two small bulls.



Spot after spot that looked good from afar, I'd go walk it and there would be a patch that was just too rough for the pilot to land. After a handful of failed attempts, it was time to at least sit and enjoy the scenery for a bit.





After sitting for some time, I noticed a medium bull perfectly skylined on a ridge behind me. While he wasn't a shooter, it was fun to watch his velvet flap in the wind. I kept checking on him hoping he might have a buddy but none ever appeared.



Shortly thereafter my buddy joined me and after a half hour of non-productive glassing (but mostly just enjoying the scenery since I had no intent of going after a bull until I was confident we could get meat picked up), we resumed the search for a spot to land. Finally, I found a thin strip between the rough patches that barely met the pilot's specifications. It was about 30' shorter than he said he needed, but at that time there was a strong headwind. I felt 95% confident he could land there, so long as the wind direction didn't change. But that was far from guaranteed.

I marked out the ends of the "runway" on my GPS, and started meandering my way back toward camp, still hopeful I could find another flat section, preferably in a different direction to give us more options should the wind change. As I was looking at the ground, picking apart the mounds and rocks and deep cuts trying to talk myself into it, my buddy said "there's two bulls."

I pulled up my binoculars, and it was the same bull from the ridgeline, but he was accompanied this time by a giant.

We ducked down behind a slight mound and I pulled the spotter out as they were still a tad over 400 yards away. Right away, I told my buddy, "that's the same bull from last night."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I spent all night looking at photos of him."

I was prepared to pass on him again, as even though I was pretty confident we could get meat picked up, I had a feeling that if the pilot came out and waved us off without landing, things would get real tense between my hunting partner and me. Waiting until we had assurance that we didn't have four days ahead of us of hauling meat and camp through pure hell seemed like the prudent approach if I wanted to maintain a friendship. That friendship mattered more to me than killing this bull.

My friend said, "you should shoot him."

"Are you sure? This might really suck."

"Shoot him."

I knew full well that meant I might endure the brunt of the suck. My buddy had a condition that limited the amount of weight he could carry. I saw very heavy packs in my future. Kind of hoping for a way out, I said "if he comes within 300 I'll shoot him," and left things up to fate.

The two bulls kept coming, closer and closer. When they hit 300 I trepidatiously put a shell in the chamber.



The first shot was too far back. I had overcompensated for the strong crosswind. He ran about 20 yards and started to stagger but didn't go down.

The second shot found its mark.

 

[Poke 'Em]

While I was obviously excited to have not only seen the giant from last night again, but to have killed him, the overwhelming emotion was anxiety. I knew we could get both bulls out. I just knew what it might take to do so, and that there was a very real possibility that my friend's body might not be up for it. I mentally prepared myself for 75% of the work.

We took photos, knowing that once the anxiety subsided, the feeling of joy of being able to take a great bull in one of the most gorgeous and isolated places I could ever imagine would set in. This was exactly what I had hoped for in choosing this area. I just hadn't planned on how difficult it would be to get there and possibly to get out.





Finally my buddy got me to take some photos that exuded more than a "what have I just gotten us into" emotion.





(Also, if anybody can photoshop a tooth in where the one a llama knocked out goes that would be great).

Then the work began. He was only about 3/4 of a mile from camp, but I determined to take him back in one trip. My friend graciously took both front quarters and the loose meat. I threw both hind quarters and the skull on my pack. As I put my pack on and stood up he asked "how can you just stand up like that?"

"Dude, I'm 6'4" and 260 lbs."

Nonetheless, the pack weight was brutal. Between the bone-in meat, the skull, my rifle, tripod, spotter and gear, I estimated the pack at 150 lbs.

 

[rjthehunter]

Wow! Looks like a beautiful trip! Nowhere else I'd rather have a brutal pack out than that! At least you have a view!!! Thanks for the write up. I'm interested to hear if you were able to get the pilot landed...

 

[Rzrbck918]

Damnation! What a bull and hunt, well done!

 

[Poke 'Em]

I sent an inreach message to the pilot that said "second bull down. Still working to pinpoint a spot to land." I was still hoping to find a better spot on the pack out back to camp. Without finding one, I followed up, describing the spot I had found just before the bull reappeared.

"Got a spot. Straight into the wind atm. 600' (a very slight exaggeration). It's clear of rocks and ruts it's just pretty bouncy tundra."

After some back and forth with me describing the terrain in greater detail he finally said "mark it out good on both ends. I can't guarantee anything but I'll do my best to get in there."

He had to drop some other hunters off in the morning, and would then head our way. I told him to text me when he was about to leave the airport and we would start hauling meat.

My friend was still very nervous about whether the pilot would be able to land, given the implications if he couldn't. I told him I was 70% sure he could land. Reality was my confidence was higher, but I was worried if I told him 95% and then the pilot said no go, it might crush his spirits.

The next morning, visibility was intermittent.
I sent in a weather report and when I got word he was about to leave I started hauling meat. Unfortunately, my friend had woken up in the night with a bathroom emergency and wasn't feeling any better in the morning. "I'm going to start hauling meat, catch up when you can."



I had planned on two trips each, but he was just loading up his pack by the time I returned from the first round trip. I quickly loaded up my second pack and hoofed it toward the landing zone. We offloaded meat and set up a line of meat bags at the landing site as an indicator for the pilot. Unfortunately, we still had meat back at camp so I accompanied my friend to help out where I could. I thought we still had enough time to get back before the pilot arrived, but a third of the way back to camp we heard the rumble of his engine.

As he flew overhead I pointed in the direction of the landing zone and picked up the pace back to camp. For what seemed like an eternity, we would see the plane disappear, and then reappear. Finally, I heard what I thought was the plane landing and then turning around on the ground. I told my friend, "I think he landed." A moment later we saw his plane appear in the sky again. My heart sank. I was worried the 5% was coming to fruition. We loaded up the last meat and increased the pace. As we created the last hill, a feeling of pure elation came over me. I turned around and shouted "he's on the ground!"

When we got to the plane the pilot said, "that was pretty dicey, I don't think I'll do that again." But no matter, he was on the ground.

We loaded up the caribou, and he told us we would have to hike back down to the river as the "runway" wasn't long enough to get us out.

As he became airborne the feelings fully shifted from anxiety to joy at what we had accomplished.



The next morning we headed back down through the torture chamber to the river. Going downhill only took 2.5 hours to go 2.5 miles.



When we got there the gravel bar, the rains had risen the river so much that it was half as long as when we landed. Thankfully it was just enough to land on, but he had to shuttle us one at a time to a bigger landing strip.

It was over too soon. Killing two bulls in two days, and a day before we had even planned to start, was bittersweet. The range of emotions was unlike any hunt I'd done before. But as we got back to town, I told my friend, "I rescind my regret."

 

[brocksw]

awesome!

 

[BRI]

Congrats on an incredible adventure, story and pictures. Thanks for sharing!

 

[Nameless Range]

Well that was badass and beautiful. Thanks for sharing your story!